When History Repeats
by Ravishingly Discreet
Summary: Hillel is just your normal wizard.. about to meet a horrible fate.
1. Window to the Future

**When History Repeats**

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**Disclaimer-** JK Rowling, and those whom she's chosen to share them with, owns the rights to the Harry Potter books and all content in them, including the mention of Hogwarts, its students, and its teachers, not I. 

**Reviews- **Are widely welcome. Constructive criticism is appreciated. 

**A/N-** This story is being written for my own, and your, satisfaction. Enjoy. 

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**A Window to the Future**

_A bloody battle ended by a brave knight being stabbed in the back by his most loyal friend. As he fell onto his knees to the damp, blood stained ground below, his traitor rode off on the pure white steed he'd arrived on, with no evidence of a battle or betrayal apart from the blood soaked sword held out as if sign of a victory._

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_Wolfram's eyes began to close, his friend's laughter still ringing painfully in his ears. Just as his upper body gave away, his eyes opened again in terror. The star-crossed incident that had cost him his life would happen again. Not in the same way, and not even in the same time, but to a descendent far down the line of his family tree._

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_Upon his dying moment, the most prestigious wizard of the time reached out with all his power to deliver a warning to his young descendent of the horrible fate he would meet, and the need for him to put an end to it before it happened to another._

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_One tantalizing and horribly cruel laugh remained as his powers were drained and he gave his last breath, uttering one last word, "Malfoy.."_

Hillel awoke gasping for air, a sharp pain blazing down his back. 

He'd been having that same dream since his arrival at Hogwarts, but had never managed to recall it once he awoke. Only the familiar laugh and intense pain ever made it into his conscious. 

As Hillel laid beneath the gray sheets of his four poster bed, his thoughts drifted to the day he received his letter of acceptance to the school. 

_He had been sitting at the splintery picnic table outside, staring glumly at the remains of his birthday cake while the heaven's poured their sympathies down over London, England. _

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_Because of the unexpected rain, his birthday party had been canceled, and despite the risk of becoming ill, ruining the new gray slacks and white button down shirt his mother had dressed him in that morning, and his mother's pleas, he had remained outside to sulk alone. While his mother kept a watchful eye on him from the window above the sink washing their supper dishes, a great tawny owl swooped down from the sky, dropping a letter and allowing it to drop onto his brown head of hair and slip down onto the damp green grass. _

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_The owl wasted no time in taking flight again, eager to find shelter from the rain._

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_Hillel expressed no curiosity in what the letter held, enveloped in yellow parchment, as he picked it up and finally made his way inside. _

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_He stood at the mat in front of the heavy wooden door that led to their backyard, tossing the letter to a nearby table and allowing the water to run off him and be absorbed by the mat underneath._

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_His mother bore down on him with a sympathetic smile, wrapping a towel around him and leading him onto the tile floor of their kitchen._

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_"Sorry, Mum."_

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_She hugged him, then pushed him into one of the metal chairs beside the white table._

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_"It's okay, son. You were upset."_

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_Over hot chocolate, mother and son talked about the day and its disappointments._

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_When finally Hillel was slightly less damp, he left his mother with a kiss on the cheek and made his way upstairs, passing the table which the Hogwarts letter lay on without so much as a thought._

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__Hillel smiled to himself in the darkness of the room. How often does an owl drop a letter on your head? He couldn't believe how thick he'd been, but for whatever reason the letter hadn't managed to hold his interest.. until he found his mother, reeling with shock, staring shakily at the letter in her hand. 

_"Mum, what's wrong?"_

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_She had looked up at him, with tears in her eyes but a smile on her face. _

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_"Your grandmother was the same. Not many wives could honestly say their mother-in-law was a witch."_

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_"Mum!" Hillel started, a look of absolute shock on his face. "Gran's always been perfectly nice to us, even after Dad left." He stumbled over the last words, fighting to get them out._

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_His mother laughed at her son, although a familiar feeling of sadness arose from the depths she had hidden it in. Hillel hadn't mentioned his father in quite some time, and vainly she had wanted to keep it that way._

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_"I don't mean it that way, Hillel. She was like you."_

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_This only brought confusion to Hillel's face. _

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_At this, his mother handed him the letter. He scrunched up his face, as if trying to remember where it had come from._

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_"Mum, I think an owl dropped that on my head."_

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_With a forced, unusual humour, she managed to choke out, "Worse things could have been dropped"._

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_Casting a peculiar look at her, he tore into the letter and set to read it._

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_When finally looking up he seemed about to burst from contained laughter. _

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_"Wow, Mum. You'd do anything to cheer me up, wouldn't you?"_

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_It was her turn to wear the confused look. "It's not a joke dear."_

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_Hillel had laughed and refused to believe her._

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_It remained a joke to him until his grandmother arrived to take his mother and him to Diagon Alley._

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_"Where are we going, Gran?" _

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_She only laughed, a twinkle in her bright green eyes as she readjusted the artificially colored and kept black curls on top her head she was so proud of._

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_When she had the greasy taxi driver with expensive rates pull over beside an old pub, even his mother began to doubt the old woman's ways. It had taken the bricks readjusting on the wall outside the pub to finally bring him to reality._

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_"How'd you do that?" He'd asked, wide-eyed in awe._

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_The wall hadn't held his gaze for very long when he caught sight of Diagon Alley and the folks who strolled by its shops._

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_"Mom told me you're a witch, Gran. I guess that makes two of us."_

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_A few chuckles, a ride through the dark caves of the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and many purchases later, Hillel had learned he was a wizard, not a witch, and there were many things in the world that he'd had no idea of._

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	2. Overshadowed, Overdressed

**When History Repeats**

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**Disclaimer-** JK Rowling, and those whom she's chosen to share them with, own the rights to the Harry Potter books and all content in them, including the mention of Hogwarts, its students, and its teachers, not I. 

**Reviews- **Are widely welcome. Constructive criticism is appreciated. 

**A/N-** This chapter has only been written on a whim. I needed to fight off that muse with something. Mention of R/H just had to be included. Ever so sorry to those H/H or even D/H shippers out there. 

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**Overshadowed, Overdressed**

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****The next morning, Hillel woke groggy eyed and just as tired as he had been when he'd lied down to sleep the night before. He supposed it was his fault; he had stayed up for most of the night thinking back to the days in which he'd first found out about the wizarding world. 

A few of his colleagues were still piled under their blankets, and Hillel supposed a bit more sleep might do wonders for his state of mind, but instead he took advantage of the empty bathroom and set to preparing for the day. 

When he exited the bathroom, he seemed slightly more awake with brushed hair and a mouth free of morning breath. The others in his dorm had also awoken and they nonchalantly waved their fists at him, showing their displeasure at the long amount of time he'd spent in their only lavatory. 

Still slightly bleary eyed, he didn't pay much attention to the dark robes he threw over his head. Stifling a yawn, he grabbed his Transfiguration text book and headed down the stairs of the boys' dormitory and past the yellow and black Hufflepuff common room out into the hallways spotted with cheery sunlight. 

The circle of muses in the portrait he'd walked from giggled slightly at his retreating back, but Hillel paid them no attention. 

Hillel felt a bit like the eleven year old boy he'd been five years ago, staring at his ruined birthday cake, as he sat down in the Great Hall, looking at the bowl of porridge in front of him. Taking an apple carelessly from the basket of piled fruit and allowing a third year to grumpily pick up the ones he'd made fall, he began to think of the day he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff. 

_He'd had a hard time concealing his excitement as he crossed the river in a small boat, accompanied by three other first years. They, however, didn't bother to mask their feelings and outwardly 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the approaching castle._

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_Once inside, Professor McGonagall led them into the Great Hall and in front of a stool which sat a pointed wizard's hat._

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_'Weasley, Ginny!'_

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_Professor McGonagall called, after a long list of various other names. Among them had been 'Creevey,' 'McDonnell' and 'Surgeston.' The Sorting Hat, an aged hat enchanted by wizards, immediately placed her in Gryffindor. While Hillel looked curiously at the freckled faces greeting her at the Gryffindor table, the professor called his name._

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_'Wizend, Hillel!' _

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_As the hat whispered 'Humility.. And lot's of. You're of a kind soul.' Ginny's brothers were still whistling their approval for her and when placed into 'Hufflepuff!' it was barely heard over the racket._

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_He'd entered Hogwarts just as invisible as he was today._

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__Hillel looked up from his apple. 

The hat had called him kind. What kind person allowed someone else to clean up after them? He decided it was the morning's doing and was about to apologize to the third year who'd neatly stacked the apples he'd cause to tumble when he noticed a laughter erupting throughout the Great Hall. 

Curious, he looked around to see its source. Eyes of all sorts were pinned on him. At the Slytherin table, a seventh year boy, who Hillel knew as Draco Malfoy, stood. Allowing his voice to boom over the students' laughter he shouted to Hillel, "Trying to impress a professor, Ickle Hufflepuff?" 

The comment was met with much laughter from different tables. Hillel didn't know which made him more furious. Being accused of trying to impress a professor (with what he didn't know) or being called an 'Ickle Hufflepuff', as he was only a year younger than Draco himself. 

Riled up enough to retort, Hillel stood and finally noticed what the others had been laughing at. 

In his morning haste, instead of his school robes, he'd thrown on his navy blue dress robes. They were surely appropriate for a ball, but not a morning breakfast. Doing his best to ignore the laughter, Hillel smiled lightly and left the hall, along with his Transfiguration text book, and walked with a more hurried pace than usual to his dorm. 

In the brooding nature that so often consumed him, Hillel heard himself mutter "Not so invisible now, am I?" 

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Dressed in the black school robes his mother had bought him just this past summer in Diagon Alley, Hillel once again left the Hufflepuff common room. This time he couldn't ignore the unusual noise made from behind him. 

This time, however, it was not the muses' laughter. It was the mocking voice of Draco Malfoy. 

"Next time, maybe you'll dress with your eyes open." 

Hillel turned and frowned at the Slytherin boy, inwardly wondering what he was doing outside the Hufflepuff common room. 

He then noticed his Transfiguration text book that Draco was tossing between his own hands. 

"Thanks, then. For bringing my book to me." 

Draco's mouth twisted into a cruel smirk and he tossed the book to Hillel who caught it easily in the air. 

"Be sure to arrive tomorrow morning in a Muggle clown suit, mudblood. I'm sure it'll prove to be even more entertaining." 

With his last comments said, Draco walked away leaving Hillel to wonder how he knew about his family history. 

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Although taught well enough to consistently focus on the good in a person (although this was hard in Draco's case) Hillel couldn't help being a bit jealous of him. 

Draco's reputation was not a good one, though. It was a known fact that he was the son of a pompous death eater and that he'd more than likely join his father once graduated from Hogwarts. Still, the infamous Malfoy name always caught more attention than the unknown Wizend. 

Despite being scorned upon by most members of other houses, the female student body agreed he'd grown to be quite pleasant looking. He'd even developed into a fairly good seeker and managed to beat Gryffindor's famous Quidditch player, Harry Potter. 

Draco's opponent on the Quidditch field was not only famous for his Quidditch abilities, but also his defeat of Voldemort. Although the evil presence still haunted the wizarding world, Harry had come out of top from battles with him more than once. It had all started when Voldemort had been unable to kill him as only an infant. No one knew how he did it, but the lightning scar on his head was evidence of a curse being performed on him that no one else had escaped from alive. 

His two friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley didn't go without recognition either. Hermione was just about the smartest student Hogwarts had ever had and Ron had won a wizarding chess tournament just the year before and his face had been plastered throughout national newspapers. The romantically involved couple were always by Harry's side, and always providing assistance in the boy's opt for finding trouble. 

Even Neville Longbottom, a horribly clumsy seventh year brought more attention to himself than anyone in the sixth year class. If only Hillel was a year older. Maybe then he too would be more than an anonymous face who one day accidentally wore dress robes to breakfast. He frowned at the thought as he trekked to his Transfiguration class, pushing the thoughts of the overshadowing seventh years away.__

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